6.30.2005

At a young age I discovered one of God's greatest gifts, the surreal beauty of the mountains. It happened on Mt. Pilchuck, a mystical pull that started in the summer of 1990 and captured me for nearly a decade.

The Washington Cascades is diversely abundant in beautiful scenery, and savage artistry of a Creator with some tricks up His sleeve. Driving along I-5 in Snohomish County you can feel as if you've been surrounded by guardians of a different realm. To the south, Mount Rainier, the largest of the sentinels, stands majestic and square shouldered. Mt. Baker rises mysteriously above the northern clouds. And on either side you can see the endless ridges of the Olympic Mountains and the north-central Cascades. Surely, God has placed around you a crown of snow capped peaks.

In the middle of the crest rising to the east, stands Mt. Pilchuck. Barren in the summer and snow bound in winter, it stands nobly above the Snohomish River valley. Growing up on 80th St. in Marysville, all I had to do was look to the east in between the trees that lined both sides of the road to glimpse Pilchuck's rugged peak pointing toward heaven.

The mountain was my high school's namesake, but long before the words college prep and grade point average meant anything to me, Mt. Pilchuck was my introduction into God's playground.

In the summer of 1990, my Sunday school teacher took our class for a hike in the woods. We piled into Suburbans and minivans early on a Saturday morning for the drive up through Granite Falls and Verlot to Forest Service Road 42. FSR 42 is a steep, windy, pot-holed road. To a bunch of fifth and sixth graders it is an exciting drive. The road ends at a sizeable parking area near the trailhead; at eleven years old the gravel lot seemed massive.

Don, our teacher and the leader of this youthful expedition, got out of his truck and pointed uphill to the top of the rocky ridge and said, "That's where we're going kids."

I stood in awe. My family had driven though the mountains several times but had never risen further than pass elevations. Now around me was the most inspiring and beautiful vistas I had ever seen. The air was crisper and cleaner, our hearts were bursting with excitement. Our destination, 2200 feet higher, was close enough to touch. Three Fingers, the mountain rising from the opposite valley, was a part of the standard panorama at sea level and a view I'd grown accustomed to; now it appeared more real than ever before.

William Blake once said, "Great things are done when men and mountains meet." That Saturday, I proved his thought was true. I was doing a great thing: climbing a mountain. This journey began a profound change in my character.

The trail begins as a leisurely walk through old growth forest, dips across a stream and then begins a steady and exhausting climb upwards. For three miles, we followed switchbacks, swatted mosquitoes, marveled at scenic viewpoints, and stripped away layers as the day grew warmer.

Half way up the hike, the trail blazes through a basin once used as a ski area. The basin is a fascinating venture, filled with boulders to climb, snow pack that hasn't yet melted, fresh spring water to cool off with, and the remains of the abandoned ski lifts.

For our group it was a good resting place, but for me, it was a place to explorer. It caught my imagination, and continued to do so as I returned in years to come. Here, the fire lookout on top of the mountain first becomes visible to the naked eye. Here, boulders the size of busses demand to be conquered. Here begins the final ascent to the top.

Near the peak the path becomes rockier until the final stretch where you find yourself jumping from boulder to boulder and climb a ladder into the lookout situated at 5340 feet.

Built by the forest service and maintained by mountaineers, the lookout on Mt. Pilchuck is an entertaining and educational resource. We signed the guestbook inside. We read the displays that points to and names the surrounding peaks, describes the local flora and fauna, and details the construction of the building in which we stand.

We ate our lunches in and around the lookout. I don't remember what I had to eat that day, but I do remember the thrill and excitement. For the first time I experienced the emotions felt by Sir Edmund Hillary, John Muir, Jim Whitaker, and William O. Douglas, names at the time that I didn't know but would learn about in years to come. They defined wilderness exploration and gave privilege to those that would dare to follow in their footsteps.

On the eastern side I stood on a precipice above a near 300 foot drop. To the west, I overlooked the world I knew. Marysville (my home town) and its neighboring communities spread out below me in an intricately woven tapestry. For the first time I realized how small we really were, and in what a great big world we lived in. My eyes opened to a new realm of possibilities. I was seeing new sights and feeling new emotions.

While most of the kids in our group went back to a normal summer, nothing was ever normal for me. I followed Don back into the mountains; he became my mentor as we hiked to Lake 22, Cutthroat Ridge, Mt.Si, Sauk Mountain, and Church Mountain.

Through the years Don and I became friends and hiking partners as we sought out trails from Mt. Baker to Mount Rainier and areas in between. We got rained on, got lost together, chased mountain goats and marmots, and shared many laughs. During our excursions we talked about life and God. Slowly, I discovered myself. I grew up in those mountains and became an adult.

Sadly, I was unable to share those joys with my father. He got to see the pictures, and showed the photos to his co-workers and clients. But, a 3500 foot elevation gain in an eight mile round trip was not a possibility for him.

In February of 1991 my dad fell backwards off of a ladder from 17 feet in the air. He landed flat on concrete, bouncing back into the air, and subsequently caught in the hands of an off duty EMT. The resulting injuries would forever alter his life and the lives of those of us close to him. Complications followed and still plague him, but he's alive and he can walk. I never asked for anything more.

The result was more than a bad back or a bad neck. It made simple things, like holding a gallon of milk, difficult. Before the accident, he was strong and active; it was not unusual for him to be playing catch or basketball with my brother and me. My older brother's passion was athletics. Since Dad played baseball in high school, that was a passion they got to share. My passion was hiking and climbing, an obsession my dad would have loved to share if he had not suffered his catastrophic injuries in ‘91.

He endured multiple surgeries (some with undesirable side effects), lost range of motion and mobility in his neck and shoulders, and beared constant daily headaches. But, the most tragic result of his fall was a restriction from activities that I enjoyed most. He wasn't allowed to forge mountain streams or swim in lakes created from glacial melt.

One Christmas, my brother and I took one of Dad's favorite pictures of me and enlarged it to poster size, a picture he still has mounted in his office. It's a picture of me standing on top of a ledge after a 30 foot vertical climb on the south side of Mount Rainier. It's a beautiful picture of a sunny day that represents the excitement that the wilderness offers, especially to my father who lived vicariously through the pictures I brought home with me.

Someone once asked him if he was worried I would get hurt or injured while climbing. With a proud smile that only a father could understand, Dad said he never worried, but wished he was there with me.

From a hospital bed after slipping on a wet floor, Dad turned his wishes into a promise and told me that one day, he would climb Mt. Pilchuck with me.

I've hiked the trail up Pilchuck many times, in rain and fog, in late spring when snow still covered much of the trail, and on crystal clear days coming home with sun burnt shoulders. Don and I have returned with guests from the Midwest, who have never seen a mountain let alone stand on top of one. I've watched, from relative safety, as a thunderstorm passed in storm clouds below Pilchuck’s lookout. And one time, I led my dad up that steep trail.

Good things happen when men and mountain meet. Good things happen when father and son trek together. Good things happen promises are kept.

It wasn't just a special time for me, but it was for my father as well. I could say more, but that really is his story.

The whole point of Christian artistry or artists that are Christians is not to display an exact representation of Christ at all times, but to honor him in what we do. Christian art can be about nature and sex and life and death and hurt feelings and the entire the entire spectrum of human emotion and experience. We talk about those things because they are all a creation of The Artist. We cross the line into sinful territory when we portray God’s creation in a negative manner or in a way that is not biblically sound.

Christian carpenters don’t have to put a cross into every table and chair they make, Christian construction workers don’t need to make every building look like a church, Christian cops don’t need to exorcize every criminal they arrest or write God bless on every ticket they write. All that is required is to be like Christ, and to do their jobs to His glory. Witness as appropriate.

Same for Christian artists, every portrait painted does not need to be of Jesus, every song sung does not need to be a praise song, every story told does not need to be a gospel. All that is required is to be like Christ, and to honor him with our art. Our witness is worthless if we don’t follow those rules.

The more like Christ an artist is, the more powerful and credible his (or her) testemony will be reguardless of what their art is about.

You occasionally hear a professional athlete or rock star say something along the lines of "I don't won't to be a role model." To them I want to say "Tough crap, you're famous. You're in the public spotlight, doing something every little kid dreams of doing when they grow up. They will idolize you whether you're worth it or not. If you don't want to be a hero, quit your job and disappear. Become a postal worker or something."

After a long phone conversation last night with my brother, and then another (and longer) phone call with my parents, I thought it would be appropriate to examine my heroes. Granted, it might not be the most interesting read, but I need to get it off my chest. I'll include a handful of links in case you're more interested in finding out more about some of these people. Enjoy.

To start off, Steve Taylor. Not only a hero, but a huge influence. He's had a long and controversial career in the Christian and mainstream music industry. An interesting fellow, originally a youth pastor, he's recorded several albums as a solo artist and one with his band Chagall Guevara, headlined phenomenal tours, and produced for varied artists like Newsboys Guardian and The Insiders. His short lived label was the launchpad that gave Chevell and Sixpence None the Richer well deserved recognition. He's now working on his first feature length movie The Second Chance.http://www.sockheaven.org/Next up, Dave Grohl. Most people will remember him as the drummer for Nirvana, or recognize him as the front man for Foo Fighters. I refer to him as one of the hardest working people in rock music. He got his start drumming for punk bands on the East Coast and has worked with artists as varied as Trent Reznor, Nora Jones, and Jack Black. Check my post "In Foo Honor" and www.foofighters.com

Billy Corgan. The man is a legend, his band changed the way I look at music, and much of the way I look at life. I consider him one of the greatest song writers in rock music. The thing that makes him (at least in my mind) great is his imperfections. He doesn't have a good singing voice, he's got crooked teeth, he's kinda ugly, he had a breakdownreakdow in the late 90's. Yet, he's truged on, and stands strong. He's got that spark, when he speaks - you listen. His lyrics are profound and resonate on such a deep and personal level that it's nearly impossible to dismiss. The Smashing Pumpkins music videos are artistic and emotional masterpieces. For me though, he's an inspiration. Why? I not a great singer, I got crooked teeth, and I'm kinda ugly. I just haven't had a mental breakdown...yet. But more than that, his music inspires me to write. Everytime I hear a Smashing Pumkins song, or Zwan song, or even a song from his recently released solo album, I want to write, be it song, poetry or fiction. I'll often have Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness or some acoustic bootlegs playing in my headphones while working on my novel. "I fear that I'm ordinary, just like everyone" - Muzzlehttp://billycorgan.comNext are two very different men with one thing in common. Jon Stewart and David Duchovny. David is most known as the X-Files' enigma Fox Mulder, but has also had other memorable parts in films like Evolution, Zoolander, Playing God, and Return to Me. A great actor and disturbingly charming. Jon, on the other hand, is a comedian and host of The Daily Show with Jon Stewart. A very funny man. His stand-up performance on seeing a proctologist is one of the funniest things I've ever seen. Aside from comedy, he's also done some movies like Big Daddy and Playing by Heart. Watch Jon's show on late night tv and find out more about the show athttp://www.comedycentral.com/shows/the_daily_show/index.jhtml. David has roughly 2.7 million fan sites give or take a million, just Google search his name if you want to read more about him. Oh yeah, what do they have in common? They've both kissed Gillian Anderson.

Moby. Another funny little man who's not that good looking and not a great singer. A Christian, vegan, somewhat militant political activist, I find it difficult to agree with some of his views, but his work ethic is to be admired. While on record, much of his music is mellow, he puts on one of the most energetic live shows. It's hard to believe he got his start playing hardcore punk. It's been interesting to see his transormation from wiry dorky kid to rave/techno demi god to the respected musician he is today.http://moby.com/

Finally, my older brother Aaron. As much as I take after my father, it's my brother that I've most wanted to be like. He played three equal roles in my life when I was younger: Big Brother, Bodyguard, and Best Friend. Five and a half years older, we never went to school together and never developed much of a rivalry. He was the athletic one and I was the artistic one, I think the only time we ever competed was while playing volleyball at church outings. We have many mutual friends and share a passion for music. We used to go to concerts together, now he's a concert promoter. His two kids are my only neice and nephew, and they're at the age where almost everything they do is funny. My wife and his wife chat often, much like they're sisters. Despite the 10 hour drive between us, we're still friends. His web site is in my links section, Prairie Fire Concerts.

6.20.2005

Are you looking for young talent? Do you need new blood? Would you like someone to take your fledgling business and turn it into a Fortune 500 company with multi-billion dollar profits? Whatever you do, don't look in Seattle.

The Friday edition of the Seattle Times reported in a story titled "Parents set bad example" that parents are cheating to get their kids into school. Not to get them into a private school, but a public one, John Stanford School, an elementary school in Seattle's Wallingford neighborhood.

Big friggin' deal you ask? Yes.

The rules are simple, you must live with in a half mile of campus to be able to enroll your kids. Parents that live too far away are fabricating their home address just so their kids can attend. So far, four kindergarten students have had their enrolment for next September revoked due to these overly competitive parents.

How are they cheating? Some have leased apartments in the area but left it vacant and have no intention of living there. One set of parents who tried this tactic submitted their lease to the school for proof of residence, not realizing that the lease specifically states no kids allowed. Hmm. Another lease was for a studio apartment too small for a five person family.

A parent living in the Wallingford neighborhood was approached by a parent from a different part of the city and asked if she would trade utility bills so that the cheating parent could provide proof of eligibility to the school.

Apparently, neighborhood parents are fed up and ratting out the cheats, even submitting lists of suspects into the school.

Times columnist Danny Westneat asks in the article "Do we even know what cheating is anymore?" He states that a half dozen parents have shamelessly admitted to him that they have falsified information to get their kids into a school they don't qualify for.

In an age where cheating has become the norm in high schools and college campuses across the US, this is a sad testament to the merits of the greatest country in the world. We're better than this, aren't we?

Parents, WHAT ARE YOU THINKING?! Do you even realize what you are doing to your children? You are teaching them that it is OK to cheat and swindle to get ahead, that honesty is for losers, the temptation of the dark side, to do everything they can to crush the competition.

You are raising the next generation of Enron, Tyco, and Adelphia scandals. You are showing them how to survive in the corporate world by training them to be a corporate criminal. You are breeding bad CEOs. Shame on you.

6.17.2005

I don't care too much for cheerleaders. High School, college, professional... it doesn't matter. I see them as infantile, snobbish, shortsighted, and the intellectual equivalent of a third grader. Many are not as good looking as the think they are (perfect example, Krystal, the NBA cheerleader and recent loser on WB's Beauty and the Geek)

Granted, there are exceptions. Far and few between, I have known a couple of down to earth, semi-smart cheerleaders. However, while any given population will have a village idiot, that idiot makes up the general populace of the cheerleading world.

And thanks to the Associated Press, we have further proof that the cheerleading profession should be banished from existence. The following story can be found in both AP: Strange News and Yahoo News websites.

KELLER, Texas - Four Keller High School cheerleaders were sent home early from camp after allegedly putting human feces on a pizza and trying to frame rival cheerleaders for the deed.Cheerleaders from rival Fossil Ridge High School had sent the pizza to the Keller squad on the last night of a four-day camp at the University of Texas at Arlington. Less than an hour later, some Keller cheerleaders took the pizza to the Fossil Ridge sponsor, claiming that Fossil Ridge cheerleaders had doctored the pizza with feces.After questioning, four Keller cheerleaders were sent home, cheerleaders and parents told the Fort Worth Star-Telegram for a story in Thursday's editions.Federal laws bar officials from discussing the girls' discipline, but such an incident would be considered "serious misconduct," district spokesman Jason Meyer told the newspaper. He said punishment could include sending the girls to the district's disciplinary alternative high school and removing them from the team.The day after the pizza prank, other Keller cheerleaders apologized and read a letter to the Fossil Ridge squad.

Please, we owe it to ourselves. End the madness, don't support cheerleading.

6.14.2005

Today is all about the Foo Fighters as they're fifth studio album is released, well, today. After four great records, I'm excited to see and hear the new one, "In Your Honor" especially due to the fact it's a double album. One disk described by Dave and Taylor as the heaviest music they ever put out, and the other disc shows off their mellow side with acoustic tracks (and a duet with Nora Jones).

O.K., so the 24 hours of Foo on MTV2 wasn't particularly captivating. (bucket drum circle with Dave, Taylor, two street musicians, and Stewart Copeland of the Police in Times Square is more entertaining in theory than reality) But the band had some downtime and what a better way to waste time than taking over MTV studios and poking fun at the station's ridiculous history.

Despite their leisurely display on TV, frontman Dave Grohl is one of the hardest working musicians in rock music. Side project Probot, drumming for on the albums for NIN and Queens of the Stone Age, film scores (Touch), countless radio and TV appearances (including a memorable and teasing cover of Elton John's "Tiny Dancer" for Greg Kilborn), constant touring writing recording and performing with the Foo Fighters, he's come a long way since the days of drumming for Nirvana.

The first single "Best of You" is on the radio, album in stores today. Get it. Unless of course you don't like modern rock, if that's the case, ignore everything I have to say today.

"I ate about 600 of them in one day, and I had an extreme feeling of beauty. Those Mentos really work!"----Dave Grohl

6.13.2005

Last week I was experiencing stiffness, shooting pains, and lack of mobility in my wrist. It finally became bad enough by Thursday, that my wife forced me to go the the doctor.

I hate doctors.

Nothing against them personally, I'm sure some of them are wonderful people and would make great party guests. I don't mind seeing them around town or at the grocery store, I just don't prefer seeing them in their office.

But after increased difficulty doing simple things like changing my baby's diaper, or turning up the volume on the TV, I caved and went to see a doctor.

Turns out, I've got tendonitis. Tendonitis is usually caused by repetitive motions, i.e. typing, clicking a mouse button, channel surfing, etc. I guess it doesn't help that I keep a blog, I'm writing a book, and I WORK IN A CALL CENTER. Working at a call center requires typing and mouse clicking - a lot of it. Treatment includes a stiff wrist brace (incredibly difficult to type with) and anti-inflammatories.

It wasn't a completely wasted trip though, we needed to take our son in too, due to a bad reaction to some antibiotics. Let's just say, he redefined the term "explosive diarrhea."

So there we were, sitting in the waiting room, me with a gimp wrist; my son has other issues. We share the waiting room with a guy who dropped a 50 pound bar of aluminum on his toe and a kid who stepped on something sharp while playing outside.

6.10.2005

Crooks have struck my place of employment again, this time they stole their plunder from some one in my building, it could be some one I know. Read, enjoy

From: High StrungSent: Fri 6/10/2005 08:35To: Everyone in my DepartmentSubject: StealingToday is the 2nd time in 2weeks that someone decided it was okay to take things from my desk!! Last week it was my Kleenex and hand sanitizer gel. Today when I came in, somebody stole my flower/plant from my desk. I'm so sick of people being disrespectful of other people's things!! If its not yours,DON'T TOUCH IT!!!! If I see my flower/plant on someone's desk, they are not going to like me very much! So, if you are the thief who stole it, please return it!!; my hrs are Mon,8:00-6:00p.m. Tues-Fri,8:00-3:30p.m. if you don't want me to yell at you, you know my hrs and you know who you are!I'm at (desk #) on the second floor.

Thank you,High Strung

The funny thing is, I've worked with the girl who sent this E-mail and, well...

Let's just say, she's not cut out for work in a call center, customer interaction is not her forte. Neither is handling stress, multi-tasking, problem solving, or organization. Did I mention Organization? Her desk is in such disarray, it has been federally declared a disaster area. I have seen tornados with better organizational skills. Frankly I'm surprised that she even noticed anything missing from her desk.

She will also freak out about almost anything, as should be apparent in her E-mail.

Not to condone stealing, but it is a fact of life in a call center. People will take other people's lunches out of the community fridge and eat it as if their own. There is no respect for other people's property, therefore, it should be common sense, if it is of value, you probably shouldn't leave it out on your desk.

But Kleenex and hand sanitizer?! Someone please call 911, the FBI, any one who can assist us in this time of crisis.

6.09.2005

9 times out of 10 I can't stand reality TV. It just annoys me. There's nothing real about Fear Factor, Survivor contains more drama than daytime soaps, there's something creepy about Big Brother, and (un) Real World seems scripted. The bachelor/Bachelorette is scraping the bottom of the gene pool. And I won't even mention crap like Elimidate and Who Wants to Marry a Millionaire.

To make matters worse, my wife is a reality TV junkie.

Until now the only reality show of any worth was The Amazing Race. There was minimal amounts of drama, results were based off luck and skill - not lying, broken promises, and conspiracy.

However the networks have dished up two new servings ripe for our tasting pleasure.

First up is Fire Me Please. The concept, two people compete at two different places of employment to see who can get fired from their first day on the job closest to 3:00pm but not after 3:00pm. The result, a bunch of people acting like they are insane, parading around like a prom queen, flirting with customers, and re-naming their coworkers. Generally being as annoying, bizarre, and lazy as possible to get fired. Classic moments include a girl (who played her crazy card fairly early) that was told she needed to stop whistling, she said it's an old habit and she doesn't realize she's doing it and started whistling again. A guy at a coffee shop insisted that the esspresso machine was of the devil and telling a coworker (who's in a rock band) that rock music is a tool in the devil's toolbox. Fire Me Please airs on CBS Tuesdays at 9:00pm.

Next is Beauty and the Geek, brainchild of Ashton Kutcher. (the slightly off kilter guy who brought us Punk'd and Dude Where's My Car) The show is advertised as an ultimate social experiment. Somehow, it works. The concept, a bunch of really smart nerds with no social skills and an equal amount of not too bright babes pair up as couples and compete. The guys have to teach academics and the girls have to teach social skills. The result, an entertaining mix of cultures, girls saying "they're so retarded, I need social interaction" and guys saying "they're so stupid, I need intelectual conversation." Classic moments include a mensa member saying he's getting dumber just listening to them after one of the girls tells the group about how excited she was when she got her first sunburn at age 8. The most spastic of the geeks won a dance contest for a routine reminiscent of Napolian Dynamite with epilepsy, and smeared dirt all over his face to display his "brown nosing" when his team faced possible elimination. And two of the girls couldn't figure out how to pop the hood of a car. Beauty and the Geek airs on WB Wednesdays at 8:00pm.

Reality is now a happier place, well maybe not happier, but definitely funnier.

6.08.2005

My coworkers and I have received yet another E-mail beyond the abilities of any rational person. The thought process that goes into some of these communications is surely sub-human, it must hurt to be so dull.

From: Employee somewhere in ColoradoSent: Mon 6/6/2005 17:38To: A bunch of employees in Northern Idaho, A bunch of employees in Colorado, and A bunch of employees in Southern IdahoSubject:

so yea...I was on vacation for a week and returned today to see that someone has snatched my Buddha off my desk...just to let, whom ever took my fat happy man of luck know, a STOLEN Buddha will only bring you horribly bad luck. come on people who steals a Buddha? if I were you I would return it to my desk before the wrath of karma gets you. I work mon-thurs 11:30-10pm if you want to avoid the embarrassment of returning a stolen Buddha.

Try to understand. She lives in Colorado. I (and most of my fellow employees) live in Coeur d'Alene Idaho. Our offices are separated by roughly 1000 miles, according to MapQuest, a one way trip should take about 14 hours 52 minutes. I'm absolutely positive that no one would take a 30 hour road trip just to steal a little buddha statue.Karma?!? Don't get me started. Not to mention the horrid grammar. Such lapse in judgment deserves my response.

hey your probly the 25th person to bring this to my attn. obviously I didn't mean to send it to another building...I apologize.

The funny thing is, it takes great effort to send an E-mail to a different building and isn't something that could be done by accident. She obviously MEANT to send it to everyone.

I had the pleasure of speaking with one of the 25 persons to bring this to her attention. Her response had something to do with the effects of bad karma when you send out such unauthorized (and pointless) E-mails. This, not suprisingly, received no response.

6.06.2005

A couple of months ago, I received an interesting E-mail from a ill-informed coworker that was sent to all employees company wide via corporate E-mail, theoretically (but not practically) for internal company and business uses only. Most people consider it spam, but this loser thought it a good idea. Rather than describe it to you, I'll just let you read it for yourself.(Names have been changed to protect the loser)

From: Inept EmployeeSent: Tue 4/26/2005 17:05To: Everyone who works hereSubject: Gas~~ read this IT HAS BEEN CALCULATED THAT IF EVERYONE IN THE UNITED STATES DID NOT PURCHASE A DROP OF GASOLINE FOR ONE DAY AND ALL AT THE SAME TIME, THE OIL COMPANIES WOULD CHOKE ON THEIR STOCKPILES.AT THE SAME TIME IT WOULD HIT THE ENTIRE INDUSTRY WITH A NET LOSS OF OVER 4.6 BILLION DOLLARS WHICH AFFECTS THE BOTTOM LINES OF THE OIL COMPANIES.THEREFORE MAY 19TH HAS BEEN FORMALLY DECLARED "#$%%&^%_$#&#*_" DAY AND THE PEOPLE OF THIS NATION SHOULD NOT BUY A SINGLE DROP OF GASOLINE THAT DAY.THE ONLY WAY THIS CAN BE DONE IS IF YOU FORWARD THIS E-MAIL TO AS MANY PEOPLE AS YOU CAN AND AS QUICKLY AS YOU CAN TO GET THE WORD OUT.WAITING ON THIS ADMIN STRATION TO STEP IN AND CONTROL THE PRICES IS NOT GOING TO HAPPEN. WHAT HAPPENED TO THE REDUCTION AND CONTROL IN PRICES THAT THE ARAB NATIONS PROMISED TWO WEEKS AGO?REMEMBER ONE THING, NOT ONLY IS THE PRICE OF GASOLINE GOING UP BUT AT THE SAME TIME AIRLINES ARE FORCED TO RAISE THEIR PRICES, TRUCKING COMPANIES ARE FORCED TO RAISE THEIR PRICES WHICH EFFECTS PRICES ON EVERYTHING THAT IS SHIPPED. THINGS LIKE FOOD, CLOTHING, BUILDING MATERIALS, MEDICAL SUPPLIES ETC. WHO PAYS IN THE END? WE DO!WE CAN MAKE A DIFFERENCE. IF THEY DON'T GET THE MESSAGE AFTER ONE DAY, WE WILL DO IT AGAIN AND AGAIN.SO DO YOUR PART AND SPREAD THE WORD. FORWARD THIS EMAIL TO EVERYONE YOU KNOW. MARK YOUR CALENDARS AND MAKE MAY 19TH A DAY THAT THE CITIZENS OF THE UNITED STATES SAY "ENOUGH IS ENOUGH"

My first thought? What kind of IDIOT?!Let's examine this closely. First, he must not be a fan of George W. Bush. Fine, I can understand. Second, the man can't spell "administration" but I flunked elementary spelling, so, I have no room to complain. Finally, it's a blatant misuse of our E-mail system and a violation of company and IT policies. Aside from the sheer stupidity, this is my biggest grievance. I get more than enough E-mails in one day that are work related, I don't NEED to hear from morons of this caliber.My response was one of dozens, none of which were from energetic supporters of this lost cause. Again, I'll just let you read.

From: Nicholas CaseySent: Thu 4/28/2005 20:03To: Inept EmployeeSubject: GasWhile this sounds like a great idea, (the noble steal from the rich way of thinking) it is incredibly illogical.Think about it, if you lost 4.6 billion dollars on a product that made you rich, what would you do?Would you raise the prices to try and make up what you lost?I would, and I'd bet a fortune that is what the oil companies would do, raise prices even more.Face it, as long as there is demand for gas, prices will continue to rise.So, if you want to pay more for gas, by all means, stick it to the man, boycott gas for one day, in the end you defeat your own purpose.If you want gas prices to drop, lower the demand for oil, do YOUR part.Walk more often, the average American walks less than five miles every day.Ride a bike to work, if you don't own one buy one. It's good for the heart.Who cares how much oil companies raise prices if no one buys their gas.

On May 19th, I'll probably buy gas. Not to spite your cause, but because I'm fat and lazy, just like 90% of Americans are also fat and lazy.

I doubt he got the point, despite the barrage of hate mail. Someday, I fully expect to see his name listed as an honored recipient of a Darwin Award.http://www.darwinawards.com

6.02.2005

Eight month old babies can change from happy peaceful and drooling, to screaming comparable to fingernails scratching a chalkboard in annoyance and a police siren in volume. No one can imagine the full effect of such a sound until it's dropped in bed with you at 3:30 in the morning.

Jobs change. The practice of one job as a career from graduation through retirement is long forgotten in this age of short attention spans and our quest for bigger better and more.

Landscapes change. My home town is now as unrecognizable to me as Michael Jackson's face pre plastic surgery. Marysville WA was once a mixture of 1930's era homes, ma & pa shops, farmland, grassy fields, and forrest, it has since been paved over and turned into modern day suburbia complete with a WalMart and a Cineplex.

Circumstances change. Traditional marriage vows include words like richer, poorer, sickness, health, better and worse. These words set up a realistic expectation, (possibly a warning) of what's to come. Most people expect to experience those highs and lows some time with in their lifetime as a married couple, but no one ever tells you all of it will happen within the first couple years.

What's my point?

I love job titles where your job description is "Whatever we come up with for you to do" or "Stuff that no one else has time for." There's nothing as enjoyable as preparing for a 3:30-midnight class and finding out you schedule has changed to start at 7:00am the first day of class. Even better is when you discover that change around noon that day. Five hours into class, you get to walk in and introduce yourself - "Hi, I'm your teacher and we'll be here for the next six weeks. Please show up on time. Any questions?"

6.01.2005

At first the idea of a blog sounds completely ridiculous. A novel idea, possibly for someone famous, but definitely not for a peon like myself. Think about it, does anyone really care about the random thoughts of an average person? The way I saw it, we have enough problems sorting through our own thoughts, we don't need to deal with any extras.

However, as a coworker of mine was continually updating his blog, I noticed something peculiar. It was an interesting read. I really didn't care about what he had to say, his writings were nonconsequetial, and has no impact on my life. Yet, I found myself reading anyway, and mysteriously intrigued and amused.

So, here I go. My own blog. The random thoughts of a husband, a father, a twenty-something with a normal job and a piece of junk car. It might not make any sense, and the concept still strikes me as utterly pointless.

Will have any effect on your life? Probably not, and I'd be surprised if it did. But I still hope you enjoy it, and if worse comes to worst, I hope this finds you slightly bemused.

About

nic is a geek dad, a professional nerd, a pop-culture junkie, a joyful noise kind of singer (with an emphasis on noise), a sloppy and undisciplined guitarist, and a funky white boy with no sense of rhythm. He is a former actor who still loves the theater, a former architecture student who still loves drafting and design, and a former graphic artist who has lost his touch. He has an artist's heart with very little artistic talent. He is a pessimistic optimist or an optimistic pessimist.

He spends Thursday nights watching movies with his kids and hangs out with his church's worship band on the weekends. His thoughts end up here.The Faithful Geek is nic's exploration of parenthood, corporate life, and the strange intersection where faith and pop culture meet.